


as the skin flies all around us

by sternenrotz



Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Cock Rings, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Mentions of double penetration, Multi, Restraints, but also because joe always bottoms. even with girls, happy late birdday faris birthwan, joe doesn't join in because he's busy being united in holy matrimony, mentions of painplay, the phrase 'holy shit' appears a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So what's this going to be? A gangbang or an orgy or what?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Josh said and cackled, and he leaned over to steal a kiss from Rachel.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And Tom said, “well, Rachel was talking about an orgy, but if you're not up for that we can just watch a film and get drunk out the mini bar. Rhys made a cake and all.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“No.” Faris could feel how his face went from hot to even hotter. “I think I'm very much up for that.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	as the skin flies all around us

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "the Drowners" by Suede.

By the time Josh's easing the third slick finger into him, Faris still hasn't entirely gotten past whispering “holy shit” under his breath. His hair's matted with sweat all over, and rolling his head into the soft pillow and the warm flesh of a thigh that's most certainly Rhys' is only making it worse. A cramped, clouded feeling, much like someone had wrapped his head in wool, similar to how his brain feels but much less pleasant.

“Holy shit,” he breathes once again, but he's pretty sure it doesn't come out sounding like that, because it has Rachel and Tom and Rhys all turning their heads for him simultaneously. Faris suddenly feels like the centre piece of an exhibition.

Tom asks, “okay?”, hand cool against his overheated bare chest, just a little bit away from where the nerves are hubbed together in his nipple, and Rachel asks, “okay?” and Faris is all too aware of her thigh cushioning his head. He's not sure what to say, actually, not sure if how he's feeling is entirely okay. If it isn't, he still wants to feel that much more not okay.

And Josh asks, “can I keep going?”, his big thick fingers eased into Faris' hole to the second knuckle, and that's a question Faris can actually reply to easily, because yes, he would definitely like for Josh to keep going.

He manages to focus his gaze and raise his head just enough to be able to see Josh's actual cock, hanging thick and heavy and flushed red between his legs, and he swallows when Josh's fingers twitch a minuscule amount inside him, at the realisation how much thicker his cock is than his fingers.

“You can,” Faris exhales, and he's a little embarrassed when he can see Rhys nodding for him above, when he'd actually tried to be coherent. “Go slow?”

“'f course,” Josh drawls, strokes at the inside of Faris' thigh with a calloused hand, and he says, “I can go slow.” His fingers press in deep, agonisingly slowly, and it's a long minute of hands gentling over his ribs to keep him steady until Josh's in knuckles deep and reaching for that sensitive spot, and the sensation of being stretched and pulled open is almost too much.

Faris kicks his legs out, twitches his shoulders as if that would loosen the cuffs on his wrists behind his back, as if he wanted to loosen them, but Josh prodding at his inner walls is exactly the kind of _not okay_ he wants to feel tonight. For that he gets Rachel's sharp fingernails digging into his collarbone, Rhys' soft slender hand petting his jaw and Tom twisting his nipple that's still bruised from some nights ago, when they'd tried out the clamps that Rachel had gotten him for an early birthday present.

“Hey,” Rhys whispers, some stupid superior smirk on his face, and Faris hates it. “Said you'd wanted to be good and stay still for us, didn't you?”

He hates how Rhys is sitting next to him, soft all over on his belly and his hair and his skin, and he's still got this weird power over him, the kind of dominance that's more subtle than the way Tom or Josh is dominant, and mostly, Faris hates how much he's turned on by the thought of it.

“'m sorry,” he says back, through Rhys' thumb stroking into the wet corner of his mouth. “I'll be a good boy.”

That's the part when Josh fingers his prostate, the intense pressure that goes all the way up into his dick, and punches another “holy shit” out of Faris. His cock feels too heavy standing untouched in the cool air, too full with the tight rubber snug around the base, and the knowledge that the cock ring's going to stay on until he's made them all come only makes Faris shudder heavier around Josh's fingers.

Up above him, he can see Rhys lean over to kiss first Tom, then Rachel, over something he didn't notice because his head's too full of wool and Josh opening him up, and he swallows, heavy, mouth suddenly too wet with saliva. He can see Tom's own hand on his cock from the corner of his eye, too, see the head of it pink and precome-coated and inviting. A part of him wants to lick it, get it deep back in his mouth and distract him from the tightness in his own, but Rachel's sitting so close to his head he can _smell_ how wet she is.

“Rach,” he starts, turning as good as he can to nose at her inner thigh. “Rachel. Can I lick you out?”

“Sure you can,” Rachel says back, stupidly low as if there's any reason for her to be secretive about it at this point.

She spreads herself out sideways on the huge mattress, almost knocks her head into the bedside lampshade, and Faris' brain gets that little bit more cloudy when he can actually see her pussy all slick and pink for him. It takes Rhys and Tom's arms all over his torso and arms to rearrange him on the bed and actually let him rub his face into the soft hair around it. One hand that feels like Rhys' remains at the back of his head to force him down. He licks out quickly, tentatively to let his tongue catch at Rachel's clit and listen to her hitching breath, and that's when he can also feel Josh slide his fingers back out.

“Hope you're ready for this,” he whispers, “but if I don't get my cock inside you I'm gonna die. Sorry.”

And then the tip of his dick snubs against where Faris is all loose for him. Some part of Faris' brain that isn't fuzzy or occupied with lapping up Rachel's slick wonders if he's sloppy back there, if there's some of Rhys that's leaking back out of him, and he's not sure if he wants to be ashamed or not. Josh's cockhead pops into his arsehole, and it feels so, so much thicker than his fingers. Faris muffles out a “holy shit” somewhere into Rachel's folds.

It's the same “holy shit” that he'd had forming in his chest when Rachel was rubbing soothing lotion over his bruises, whispering to herself, “think I made you bleed a bit,” before she said, “I've still got a surprise for you, by the way.”

“Another surprise after the flogging?”

“Don't think it counts as a surprise if I do it for all of your birthdays.”

The same “holy shit” that was building up when they were taking the tube and walking the short distance to their hotel, when Faris realised Rachel had booked a hotel room for his surprise, and when Rhys opened the door for them and kissed him on the lips before actually saying happy birthday.

He didn't actually say it until he fully stepped into the room, but then he did, when he could see Tom and Josh lounging on the big white bed. Rhys wearing his stupid silk blouse with nothing under it and most of the buttons undone could've been written off as eccentricity, but Josh wasn't even wearing trousers. The point when Tom had patted the bed between them and said, “come over here,” that was when Faris said it out loud.

“Holy shit.”

“So you guys made it after all,” Josh observed when Faris spread himself out awkwardly in the middle of the bed, glad it was big enough to keep them from making any awkward contact. Well, then Josh leaned in to kiss Faris as well, with a surprising amount of finesse now that they were both sober in contrast to their last kiss when they'd both been off their faces.

The “holy shit” hiccuped out again after that, and then again when Tom decided to lean in and snog them both one after the other and then ask how the flogging went.

It wasn't until after Josh had managed to peel Faris out of his shirt (“See-through? You slag”) and until Rachel and Rhys had joined them on the bed as well that Faris finally asked the question, “so what's this going to be? A gangbang or an orgy or what?”

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Josh said and cackled, in that way he's got that normally would have annoyed Faris to no end, and he leaned over to steal a kiss from Rachel.

And Tom said, “well, Rachel was talking about an orgy, but if you're not up for that we can just watch a film and get drunk out the mini bar. Rhys made a cake and all.”

“No.” Faris could feel how his face went from hot to even hotter, and considered himself incredibly glad to have a complexion not prone to blushing, and continued, “I think I'm very much up for that.” He stretched to kiss Rhys once again, mainly because his tiny mouth was the closest, and he needed someone's lips to keep himself from word-vomitting a long stream of “holyshitholyshitholyshit”.

Sure, they'd talked about it, just in the privacy of their bedroom when Rachel had said she'd like to watch Faris getting shared by multiple men, hands and mouths and cocks all over him, maybe even join in herself, and Faris had admitted he'd actually like that very much and squirmed on her glove-covered fingers in his arse. Then there'd been the odd few times when he'd gotten Rachel's permission to shag Josh, after a gig or an award show, when they were both high off adrenaline and too much alcohol and needy for a quick toilet stall blowie, but as far as Faris was concerned, toilet stall blowies were completely different from his orgy fantasy. Which was all that it was, a fantasy, because he didn't think Rachel would actually talk his bandmates into fucking him in a hotel room. But apparently, she _had_ done just that.

Holy shit.

It didn't come out again until when all of them were most of the way undressed, at least, when Rachel was buckling the collar around his neck and whispering, “so what d'you want to do tonight, pup? Just want to get fucked, or d'you want something more?”

“Don't know,” Faris whispered back, voice already getting a little slurry. The collar was enough to get him fairly far down towards floaty space, and combined with the nickname, _pup_ of all things, his head was spinning a little bit faster than he was strictly okay with it. “Wanna get fucked.”

He went in for Rhys' mouth again, mainly because Rhys had been pressed to his side like some slutty gay barnacle since Josh had taken his pants off, with his teeth, at that. Rhys just giggled when Faris kissed him all uncoordinated and sloppy, kept on teasing the tip of his cock with his fingers and kissed back eagerly, before he pulled back.

“You can get fucked if you want that,” he said, went in for another kiss and whispered, “pup.” To Rachel, he said, clear even through Faris' cloudy brain, “d'you guys have cock rings?”

“I brought one with me,” Rachel confirmed.

The noise Rhys made at that was so eerily satisfied Faris would've thought _he_ was the one about to get fucked senseless, but then Rhys was talking at his ear again and reminded him of how it was going to go, “what do you say we don't let you come until we've all had our way with you, yeah?”

The shudder that went through Faris' body at that was so big it was probably visible, and that thought notably embarrassed him. He still tried his hardest to keep his voice clear when he said, “we can do that,” though.

“What other supplies did you bring?” Tom asked, at about the same time when Josh cackled somewhere and pointed out that he didn't think Rhys would be the kinky type.

“Let me see.” Rachel dipped her back and pulled her purse up from the floor, the big leather one, and stood it up on the bed. “Lube and condoms, obviously,” she said, digging them out from the bag and placing them on the bedspread. “Cock ring, obviously. Butt plug, just in case. Restraints,” and she pulled out Faris' favourite set of cuffs, the leather and soft velvet ones that matched the collar. “And the nipple clamps we got last week.”

“Not the clamps,” Faris said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Too much.”

“All right, no clamps,” Rachel repeated.

Tom said, “I'd kind of like to tie his wrists.”

“Do we really need to use condoms?” Josh asked and reached to snip his fingers against the long strip of tin foil wrappers. “I mean, I know I'm clean, I'm pretty sure we all are.”

“Yeah,” Rhys echoed, and Tom nodded enthusiastically.

“And I just really want to get him dirty,” Josh continued, and suddenly his arms were around Faris' middle, mouth on his shoulder sucking a gross mark.

Faris squirmed against his teeth, but at the same time he couldn't say that he didn't like the thought.

Usually, when they'd been talking about it, they always assumed it'd be a group of anonymous strangers fucking Faris, so he hadn't really considered it in any realistic realm, but the idea that they'd all come inside him and mark him as theirs made him feel a delicious kind of filthy, the kind that went under his skin and into his brain.

“Yeah. No condoms,” he said, and let Josh turn his head for a gross toothy kiss that felt much more like their drunken kisses.

“All right,” Tom said, somewhere in the wool that was starting to wrap around Faris' head, and the chains of the cuffs jingled gently. “Let's get you ready, pup.”

And maybe Faris gets a little bit lost in the memory of the collection of “holy shit”s from tonight. Lost in the sensation of cock stretching him out and cunt all over his face, too, just stuck between Josh and Rachel as they both use him to get off, enhanced by the fuzzy subspace to the point where he's almost stuck in limbo, but then Josh's dick pops back out of his hole and gets him out of it.

It's a nasty sensation, being all loose and exposed and empty, but not the same nasty that's having a man come inside him entails, and some distant part of Faris' brain registers that Josh hasn't actually finished yet. He makes a noise, but it gets lost between Rachel's pussy lips. A slender hand slinks into his hair once again and pulls him away, just enough so he can take that long, deep breath he's been holding in and raise his head.

“Still okay?” Rhys asks, and Rachel asks, “d'you still want to go?”

And Faris nods, quick enough to hiccup in his soft woolly head, just to make sure they really get the point. His arms strain and his cock strains against the ring, gross with sweat and precome by this point, and his legs still strain from when Josh had held them up, and he wants more than that, wants full-blown _ache_ so he won't be able to move properly on stage the next day. “Keep going,” he says, face straining, and he's not sure it sounds like that, but what he is sure of this time is that they understand it anyway.

Rhys' soft hand pets his cheek and jaw, feels almost like the same gesture as holding his hand through it, and he says, “you were going all limp over there,” but Faris only half listens.

He nods his head along absently because Josh is whispering to Tom now, heads together all conspiratorially and close enough to sneak in a kiss or two, and that seems so much more important right now because they're probably talking about him. Tom pulls the odd sceptical face, but Josh just grins along with his little teeth and keeps talking at him.

“Scared us a little bit there,” Rhys keeps speaking, but he's hard again, absently tugging at his dick while he speaks. That's more interesting than what he's saying, and Faris' dry mouth starts to water again, thirsty for more cock in his throat.

Then Tom says, “and how would we...?” just loud enough for Faris to pick it up, and he focusses as good as he can.

“You know, like. Sideways?” Josh says back, makes an unrecognisable gesture, and he gets one arm around Tom's waist to kiss him properly and deeply, so their cocks line up to slide together.

Faris feels that much more ignored with his own untouched and leaky, and he twists.

“Okay,” Tom breathes. He leans over to kiss Rachel, and to ask, “how d'you feel about...”

The rest of the question gets lost when he moves closer to her ear, but her fingers move quicker on her clit when she listens, and she nods.

“Fine by me. Why don't you ask him yourself?”

And that's him, Faris perks up, although he barely has the composure to kiss back when Tom finally leans down for him. His lips are shiny with the slick that's all over Faris' face when he pulls back, sticky at his ear, and Faris tenses and listens good as he can.

“So how would you like it if me and Josh...” and that tension is all centred around his cock, around the sensation of Josh's calloused huge hand stroking over the head _finally_. He would like that very, very much.

Faris nods a little too eagerly when he's finished speaking, soft little shiver going down along his open legs in anticipation.

He watches Tom and Josh crowd in between them, feels the easy glide of Tom's cock into his still-loose arsehole, and when Tom asks for Rhys to pass the lube, he's got to turn his head away into the skin of someone's thigh, too wound-up and turned on to bear watching any longer.

“D'you want to suck Rhys again when they're both inside?” Rachel asks, soft and gentle, and Faris doesn't know if the motion he makes can even be considered a nod.

Two thick, lube-covered fingers slip inside next to Tom's dick, opening him further, lewder. It's the kind of out-of-his-comfort-zone Faris wants to feel so badly, and he sighs.

“Holy shit.”


End file.
